Salvation

by Smith, Carla Susan

  “But Catherine was not with you?” Liam asked, interrupting Rian’s brief reverie. He shook his head as cold panic formed once more, and his brother looked even more worried, if such a thing was possible. “If Isabel had no intention of being intimate with you, why would she be so determined to keep you, incapacitated, in her house all night?”

  “So you think she is behind this?”

  “Of course,” Liam snorted. “Who else could it be? But the question remains, why would she want you to spend the night in her house, but not her bed?”

  In a strange twist, Rian was glad to be the unintentional source of his brother’s focus. It meant Liam could put aside, at least for the moment, his own grief and sorrow. “Perhaps because I am now married?” he offered, but the look his brother gave him was one of disbelief. They both knew marriage was no deterrent for Isabel.

  Liam muttered to himself as he thought. “Why would she? Why would she not? Well she wouldn’t, would she, not unless—” He suddenly stopped and grabbed Rian by the arm, staring at him in horror. “What if Isabel’s aim was to prevent you from being with someone else?”

  “You mean Catherine? But why would she—you think she took my wife?” Rian could barely believe that Isabel was capable of such a monstrous act.

  Liam nodded. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Tell me exactly where Catherine was the last time you remember seeing her.”

  Rian rubbed his hands over his eyes as he tried to get his thoughts into some sort of logical order. He rose and paced. “It was in the ballroom. I was talking with Lord Carfell, and I saw both Felicity and Catherine sitting across the room by the French doors. Catherine had been dancing, and I think she was warm—no, they both were—because Felicity was fanning herself.” He looked up at Liam with haunted eyes. “They must have gone outside on the terrace for some air.”

  “Which was what you suspected, and where we found Felicity,” Liam said slowly.

  “And Isabel was the one who said Catherine must be waiting for me in another room, staying in one place so I could find her.” Rian frowned. “I remember you leaving with Felicity, walking back along the hallway, following Isabel and then nothing until I woke up this morning.” He thumped the side of his leg with his fist. “God, I’m such an ass!”

  “You were not at fault, Rian. How could you have possibly known?”

  “I couldn’t, at least not with any certainty, but damn it all to hell, I should have suspected!” He put a hand to his forehead, shading his eyes as he shook his head.

  “If Felicity took ill while Catherine was with her, and we have no reason to suppose otherwise, we both know she would never have left her side,” Liam continued. “And as she is nowhere to be found, there can only be one explanation.”

  “Yes?” Rian mumbled morosely, not wanting to hear his brother’s conclusion for it would be the same as his own.

  “She is being kept from you, brother.”

  “Dear God, no!”

  Liam, though emotionally exhausted himself, put a compassionate hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll wager Isabel’s hands are dirty,” he said gravely.

  Rian stared at him, doing is best to contain his anger. “That may be, Liam, but she will never admit to it.”

  “She could be made to.”

  “No, not this time.”

  “What makes you so certain?”

  “Because Isabel has other reasons for her actions, compelling reasons that have nothing to do with my wife.”

  Liar! She’s carrying your child, and that has everything to do with your wife!

  Liam gave him a puzzled look. He could always tell when Rian was keeping something back, even when they were children.

  “Then you have spoken with Isabel since last night?” Rian gave a weary nod, grateful that Liam did not ask for an accounting. “Stuart Collins!” Liam suddenly burst out. “We must send for Stuart. If anyone can find Catherine, he can.”

  “Of course!”

  Rian’s need to find his wife was like a white-hot fire in the pit of his stomach, but he recognized that he owed his brother a duty as well. He prayed that Catherine would understand and forgive him, and hoped that a few minutes’ delay would not mean the difference in finding her. He would never forgive himself if it were so.

  “It will be quicker if I go to him,” Rian said, “but before I leave, I need you to promise me something, little brother. I want your unbreakable oath.” He spoke so gravely, so seriously, that Liam was taken aback.

  “Of course, anything at all.”

  “You must not let Felicity think losing the baby was in any way her fault.”

  Heartsick that such an idea would have crossed Rian’s mind, Liam felt his legs weaken, and he gratefully accepted the support of an arm at his elbow. “Of course, it wasn’t her fault! Why would you suppose I would ever—”

  “I don’t think that, but she might.”

  Closing his eyes, Liam took a deep breath to calm himself before opening them again and staring at Rian. “Why would she?”

  “I don’t claim to know how a woman’s mind works, but it is a possibility you must deal with before it becomes something more. Something terrible. Something that could stand between the two of you for a very long time.” There was a horrible finality to Rian’s words. A somberness that showed a side of his brother Liam had never seen. He said nothing, waiting patiently for Rian to continue.

  “It is only natural that the death of a child will affect a woman more profoundly than a man. They are more sensitive to the loss, will feel it more keenly and mourn more deeply. It matters not that your child did not draw a single breath outside his mother’s body. Believe me when I tell you, Felicity will carry this memory always in her heart until the day she dies.”

  “What can I do for her?” Liam spread his hands. “How can I be of any help when I feel so useless, so inadequate.”

  “Stay with her, be constantly at her side until she is strong enough to move on, no matter how long that might take. Nothing else is more important. Felicity needs to know that you do not hold her at fault, and do not now think her weak or frail because she could not keep the babe within her.” He held up his hand, silencing Liam’s protest. “She will not be in a rational state of mind at first, and may accuse herself for the babe’s loss or, worse, believe that you do. Talk to her, Liam. She must hear from your own lips that you do not blame her for this tragedy.” Rian suddenly dropped his eyes, unable to look at Liam’s face. “Do not, I beg of you, repeat my mistake.”

  This last was said with such sorrow that Liam could only speculate as to the size and magnitude of the heartbreak that had left such a scar on his brother’s life. “Sophie?” he whispered hesitantly and Rian nodded silently.

  What little Liam knew about his brother’s first wife had been gleaned from letters over the years. She was the only daughter of a neighboring plantation owner, and her father had vehemently disapproved of Rian and considered him an upstart. But he had not reckoned with his headstrong daughter’s willingness to defy him. She was in love—they both were—so she had married Rian against her father’s wishes.

  For a while his brother’s letters were deliriously happy, and then inexplicably, nothing. No word from him, no correspondence for almost a year. The silence was finally broken by a short, tersely written page that told Liam Sophie had died, and nothing more. No details given, no circumstances shared. After a while Rian took up writing to his brother again, but he never mentioned his dead wife, and Liam did not press the issue.

  “It was no one’s fault,” Rian said in a gruff whisper. “The baby came too early and I was away on plantation business. Sophie tried hard to be strong, to bring him into the world, but he never drew a breath.”

  “He?” Liam said softly.

  “My son.” Rian looked up, his eyes bright. “I know how it is to feel helpless, brother.
Believe me, I know. I was unable to find the words to comfort my wife, so I said nothing. I did nothing. And my darling Sophie, who was so brave, mistook my silence for censure, believing I held her responsible for the death of our child. It became more than she could bear. Unable to face me any longer…she took her own life.”

  Liam let out a gasp as his heart skipped a beat. Now he understood why Rian had kept this a secret from him. The guilt he carried was a choice he had made, and it was something he would never surrender or expect another to share.

  “Rian, I am sorrier than you will ever know.”

  Rian stared at him, wondering how, having suffered the loss of his own child just a few hours before, he could find the compassion to ease another’s sorrow. Shaking his head, he took Liam by the arm.

  “I carry her with me still. And every day I think of her. I think of them both. They are always with me. It is a cruel fate that decrees that brothers should both lose their firstborns. Now”—he pushed Liam toward the open door—“go sit with your wife. Hold her hand, kiss her cheek, and speak kindly to her. Make certain that when Felicity opens her eyes, yours is the first and only face she sees.”

  “I will,” Liam said, swallowing hard as he tried to reconcile himself to this shared sorrow.

  “Promise me, Liam,” Rian said seriously. “Do not leave her side.” As they had when they were boys, Liam made his vow by covering his heart with his hand and closing his eyes for a moment. Rian gave a small smile at the childhood gesture and nodded, but the moment was interrupted when voices rose from the lower level of the house. “I think your in-laws have returned,” Rian noted, glad that he would not be leaving Liam entirely alone while he went to meet with Stuart Collins.

  Shaking his head, Liam corrected him. “That is not Charles’s voice,” he said, but before either of them could speculate further, a footman, slightly out of breath from exertion and with his wig askew, found them.

  “Oh, Master Rian, thank goodness you are still here!” the man exclaimed, clearly agitated. “There’s a man below, says he knows where Miss Catherine is.”

  Chapter 21

  Both Connor men stared at the fellow who now sat across from them in the downstairs drawing room. It had taken all the restraint Liam possessed to make sure his brother didn’t resort to beating the man bloody in order to get whatever information he claimed to possess. It had been a close call, but apparently having an idea of the type of welcome he might receive, the man had come prepared. Calmly he pulled a pistol from the inside of his coat and leveled it at Rian, effectively slowing his descent down the stairs.

  “I can assure you that not only am I a very good shot, but you present too large a target for me to miss,” the man said as Rian came to a shuddering halt at the foot of the staircase. Behind him Liam continued at a slower pace. He crossed the foyer, giving the appearance of having all the time in the world to wait for the stranger to dictate their next move. He was, after all, the one with the weapon.

  “If I can have your word that we can all behave like gentlemen, this will not be necessary,” the man said, tilting his head toward the pistol.

  Hearing his brother mutter something vulgar under his breath, Liam took it upon himself to speak for both of them. His tone was frigid as he said, “Entering my house and brandishing a weapon hardly constitutes gentlemanly behavior.”

  The man raised a brow. “A matter of self-preservation, and a prudent precaution it would seem.” Having decided the older Connor was far too volatile to deal with, the man gave Rian a hostile look before turning to address Liam. In a strange way, he was grateful for the younger sibling’s more rational attitude. “May I have your word, as a gentleman, that you will keep your brother calm, at least until you have heard what I have to say?”

  The brothers looked at each other, silent communication passing between them. With the barest of nods, Rian indicated that he would keep his temper in check for as long as their visitor proved useful. After that, he would not be held accountable.

  “Would you care to introduce yourself?” Liam asked, adding no warmth to his voice.

  “My name is John Fletcher.” The man did not bow or even incline his head as was customary, not wishing to take his eyes off either of them.

  “He’s Isabel’s man!” Rian exploded, making Liam step quickly in front of him. “Did that bitch send you?” he snarled over his brother’s shoulder.

  John Fletcher took a half step back as the violent outrage in Rian’s voice confirmed what he already suspected. Isabel had put herself in a situation that was far beyond her understanding. She had seriously underestimated both Rian Connor and Phillip Davenport, and the consequences for her would be disastrous once her involvement was discovered. John’s instinct had been right. Somehow he had to extract a promise from Rian Connor, the equivalent of a pardon that would show leniency for Isabel’s part in the abduction of his wife. He hoped the man would listen to reason because looking at Rian’s muscular build, John Fletcher doubted he would be able to best him in a physical fight. He wondered briefly if the younger man could restrain his brother long enough to allow an escape out the front door. As if sensing his plan, two footmen suddenly came and stood before the closed door, each crossing his arms over his chest and blocking his way. The idea of making an escape was abandoned.

  John turned and stared at both men, each of whom seethed with anger. He decided to get to his business quickly.

  “Lady Howard did not send me, and is completely unaware that I am here.” He did his best to act as if Rian’s outburst was nothing more than a schoolboy’s tantrum. “I expect my dismissal will be immediate when she discovers my actions.”

  “This does not concern you?”

  “If she did not threaten to dismiss me at least once every month, I would think something was amiss. This time, however, I do believe she will have no choice but to make good on her word.”

  Liam looked over his shoulder at Rian, but a movement in his peripheral vision distracted him. Mrs. Hatch stood at the top of the stairs, worry on her face. The commotion had brought her from Felicity’s bedside.

  “Come, we should conduct whatever business we have in here.” Liam gestured to an adjacent open door that led to a receiving salon. He fixed Rian with a look that told him to keep a tighter hold on his temper before leading the way. With an unhappy sigh of resignation, John Fletcher followed. Once seated both Connor men looked at John fixedly, but he did not flinch under their ferocious scrutiny. He had withstood worse. Carefully he put the pistol down on a small table, where it remained in easy reach.

  “Do you know what has happened to my sister-in-law?” Liam asked directly.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, for God’s sakespit it out!” Rian gripped the wooden arm of his seat with enough force to blanch his knuckles.

  “In time.” John paused, and his gaze flickered briefly to the clock on the mantel. “She is safe enough…for now.”

  “What exactly does that mean?” Liam asked.

  John Fletcher sighed. Faced with Rian’s enraged manner, he wished he could deal with the younger Connor alone. As if he could read John’s mind, Liam reached out and put his hand on his brother’s arm. The effect was almost instantaneous, and John looked at Liam in surprise at the sudden change that permeated the air between them. Rian physically locked his rage away, and allowed a breath of calm to wash over him.

  Liam repeated his question, “What do you mean when you say my sister-in-law is safe enough?”

  “It means that she still has a few hours left until the potion in her system wears off completely.” John narrowed his eyes.

  “What potion would that be?” Liam asked.

  “The one that was put in her wine,” John answered, grateful to turn his attention away from Rian.

  “By you?”

  The man shook his head, making both Connor men wondered if he realized he
’d just condemned his mistress.

  “How can you be so sure that she is safe?” Liam asked curiously.

  “Because he will want her to be fully conscious, and completely lucid before he proceeds. Besides,” John continued hurriedly, seeing the furrow in Rian’s brow, “I gave her an additional dose before handing her over.”

  “Handing her over to whom?”

  John’s expression became quizzical, and it took him a moment to process the fact that neither of them knew anything about Phillip Davenport’s existence. He had been told that Catherine’s memory had returned, but now it was clear that some critical gaps still existed.

  Rian spoke though gritted teeth. “Exactly whom has my wife been handed over to?”

  “You’d best answer him, Mr. Fletcher,” Liam advised, allowing the other man to hear the edge in his own voice.

  The fragile calm was being rapidly replaced by a naked hostility that told John he was walking a very fine line. If he had any hope of coming out of this unscathed he need to speak, and quickly.

  “I need certain assurances from both of you.” Picking up the pistol, he casually placed it in his lap. “Before I reveal the location of the lady in question.”

  “Assurances? What type of assurances?”

  Liam flashed his brother a look that, while full of empathy, requested that Rian allow him to ask whatever questions were necessary.

  “I want your guarantee that you will not seek any form of retribution for my mistress’s misguided part in this…unfortunate incident.” Resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, John Fletcher steepled his fingers beneath his chin as both men weighed his words.

  “You bastard!” Liam exclaimed vehemently. “How can we be sure that you are speaking truthfully, that you even know where Catherine has been taken? It would seem more reasonable to believe that you are here on the express orders of your mistress.”